Lights
by hedgehogandotter
Summary: John didn't expect Sherlock to be the romantic boyfriend with candle light dinner, rose petals on the bed and a warm fire in the fireplace, but nothing could have prepared him for the sight that awaited him. -Fluffy oneshot.


**Hi everyone! Just a quick oneshot (written by Hedgehog) to let you all know we're not dead yet. Honestly, school is being a huge pain in the arse and we have zero time to write. So anyone waiting for "Two Madman With A Box", the rest will be there eventually. For now, enjoy this Valentine's Day fic which isn't centred around Valentine's Day but rather about lights.**

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Valentine's Day was on a Saturday this year. Which meant that all the third years and up were

allowed to go to Hogsmeade. Sherlock liked the little wizarding village. It wasn't grand, it wasn't posh; it was simple, and nobody looked at you funnily because you weren't "one of those Holmes'", you were a student at Hogwarts.

A little trip was in order, the sixteen year-old Ravenclaw decided.

He made his way to the school's basement and walked right up to the painting showing a fruit bowl. He tickled the pear and it turned into a doorknob.

The house elves bowed when he entered the kitchen. 'Good morning, Mr. Holmes, sir,' they squeaked.

'Morning,' Sherlock greeted them. 'Please call me Sherlock.'

The house elves nodded and went back to work, except one. The little creature was wrapped in one of the towels with the emblem of Hogwarts and he looked vibrant and happy.

'Ah, Kreacher,' Sherlock smiled. He'd developed a particular fondness for the old elf, who had worked in the Hogwarts kitchens since the Second Wizarding War a few years ago.

'I was just on my way to the Hufflepuff common room, and was wondering whether you'd have any spare sweets for John.'

'Yes, master, we have some pie left from last night,' Kreacher informed him before ordering two other house elves to wrap it up and bring it over.

'Thank you,' Sherlock said, stuffing the package in his robes. 'He'll appreciate it. I'll be off, then.'

The house elves bowed again as he left. Sherlock smiled to himself – funny little creatures, they were.

He made his way to the Hufflepuff common room. Nobody looked up anymore when the Ravenclaw walked in; he was there too often since the year before, when he and John had started dating. They completely accepted it when they slouched tiredly on the same chair, or when Sherlock's head rested on John's lap or when, on some occasions, one of them decided to stay the night in the wrong common room.

It was just as well, because everyone kept telling them that they'd been dancing around each other for months. It was true, Sherlock had kept a secret affection for the handsome Beater a long time before John had asked him out in a Hogsmeade weekend. It had been quite wonderful, but Sherlock had had the impression that it had been a friendly visit to the snowy village, until John had caught his arm before Sherlock had walked away and kissed him softly.

Sherlock grinned at the memory. They'd been together ever since.

He walked up the stairs and answered some greetings from John's House mates. It turned out that John was the only one still sleeping in his dormitory. The boy was almost military-like in regular school weeks, always the first to wake up and to get dressed, but in the weekends he could crash for hours on end.

Without warning, Sherlock sprang onto John's bed and draped himself on top of the waking boy.

'Fucking hell, Sherlock. What are you doing?' he muttered, groaning and rubbing his eyes.

'Happy Valentine's Day,' Sherlock announced, chuckling as John frowned, clearly still tired. 'Wakey wakey,' he grinned, pecking John lightly on the lips.

'Oh,' John murmured. 'Happy Valentine's Day,' he whispered, pulling Sherlock in a hug and kissing him softly, much like that very first time all those months ago.

Sherlock smiled and melted into the kiss, smirking as he slipped his hand under the sheets, fingers splaying out on John's bare chest.

John chuckled. 'Easy there, love,' he muttered, nipping at Sherlock's bottom lip.

'I've got a present for you,' Sherlock said, sitting up again, leaving John with a disappointed pout and a hungry look in his eyes.

'Here,' Sherlock said, giving his boyfriend the package with the cherry pie. It was John's favourite, even the house elves knew that.

John grinned as he unwrapped his present, and Sherlock beamed.

'I got it on my way here,' he informed John. 'Everyone knows it's your favourite. The house elves give anyone practically anything if you ask them nicely. Or even if you don't,' he added on second thought.

John smiled. 'Thank you,' he said as he bit off a small piece of pie. 'It's good!' he exclaimed with a mouthful.

'Great, now finish eating so I can kiss you again,' Sherlock laughed.

John chuckled and swallowed, wrapping the pie up again and setting it aside. 'Come here,' he said quietly, raising the thick quilts so Sherlock could crawl under them next to him.

Sherlock kicked off his shoes before climbing in. John put his arms around him and leant against the headboard of his four-post bed, fingers brushing through Sherlock's curls gently.

'What's on for today?' he murmured, kissing Sherlock's cheekbone occasionally.

'I was thinking Hogsmeade,' Sherlock replied, looking around. He kissed John – he couldn't seem to stop – and rested against John's muscled shoulder. The one that hadn't been hit by a Bludger once, resulting in a few restless nights for John at the hospital wing.

'Fantastic plan,' John exclaimed happily, giving Sherlock's temple a final kiss before he moved out of bed. Sherlock decided he had a great view and grinned, twirling his wand through his fingers. Sparks flew from the tip, and suddenly Sherlock got an idea. He hopped off the bed, silently conjured an enormous bouquet of roses and held it behind his back as he watched John get dressed. It was a Saturday, so they could just wear their own clothes instead of the heavy robes of the school uniforms. John tended to go for jumpers and hoodies in the cold season and t-shirts and plaid shirts in the summer. Which is why it was no surprise that John selected one of his warm, woolly jumpers that Sherlock loved snuggling in in the evening.

John turned and started at Sherlock standing so close to him. Sherlock smiled brightly and revealed his new present with a flourish, blushing a little bit because he had just realised what a sentimental action it had been.

'Sherlock,' John smiled, taking the flowers. 'You're being so sweet today. What's gotten into you?'

Sherlock tugged at the hem of his own sweater. 'I don't know. I don't really understand Valentine's Day, but I think you do and I wanted to show you that I do care, I really do. So here I am,' he explained, shrugging his shoulders.

'Then I think we should get to Hogsmeade as soon as possible, because my House mates are probably getting anxious with your lengthy visit to my bedroom,' John muttered with a grin, stepping forward and curling his hands around Sherlock's slim waist. 'Hmm?' he added, tipping his head up. Damn, Sherlock was tall. And he was a year younger than John.

'Just a second,' Sherlock breathed, capturing John's lips in his once again. The kiss deepened quickly, roses laying forgotten on the bed. Sherlock grabbed John tight by his strong shoulders and kissed John vigorously, tipping his head back, creating a delicious angle.

Though John was short, he was also strong. Stronger than Sherlock, which was proven when John grabbed Sherlock's head and pulled him down, gaining power over the tall boy. Sherlock now stood hunched but was still kissing back, only now John was leading.

After a while, they both closed their mouths again and finished the snog with a few tender kisses. John rested his head against Sherlock's, panting lightly. 'You should get affectionate more often,' he joked, entwining their fingers together. 'Let's go downstairs. I'm hungry.'

Sherlock nodded and they made their way downstairs. No one looked up in surprise when they entered the common room together, though Sherlock observed some of them smirking.

Sherlock had to admit that it felt nice to be accepted as they were. They were almost never apart, except when John needed to study or go to Quidditch practise. Sherlock would then go to the dungeons to keep track of his potions and experiments. Professor Slughorn had developed a fondness for him, as he was the best in his year – or even in John's year. He'd made an offer to Sherlock about the Slug Club, but Mycroft was already in there and Sherlock had no use for such trivial an activity.

Of course, being in separate years was the reason why they had different classes, but usually they found each other during breaks and they were fine with that. John had his own friends and Sherlock... well, Sherlock liked to be alone sometimes. It helped him think.

Even the teachers had taken the news well; they treated them the same as they had before, but a few jokes in class were always irresistible. It used to make them blush and look away from their classmates – as the other half of the joke was not there – because it had been early in their relationship. Now, though, they could laugh about it, because the light-hearted way the teachers joked about it was far from embarrassing. They were actually one of the most iconic couples in the school.

John was very popular, being in the Quidditch team and even Captain since the year before, and Sherlock was known throughout the school because of his family name, his looks, and his manners (or lack thereof). They'd grown into the role with ease, and now they walked through the hallways hand in hand, briefly kissed when they could not see each other for long and on many occasions, found a place to sneak off to if they wanted to be alone. They usually took the Room of Requirement, an empty classroom or the lake when it was abandoned. They'd just laugh and talk, share kisses and on rare times something more.

Sherlock was going to miss John when he was gone. His last year at Hogwarts would be tedious without him, but John had said that he would visit as often as he could. There was little time, as he would be studying to become a Healer, but whenever he could, he'd stay at The Three Broomsticks.

They entered the Great Hall and sat down at the nearest table, which happened to be the Ravenclaw table. Sherlock didn't have a great connection with his House mates, but they respected him and he wasn't a total prick to them as he was to some Slytherins (or, in general, people he didn't like – which were quite a lot).

John had captivated him completely, though. They'd been friends since John was 14 and Sherlock was 13. Sherlock had decided to go out for the day, search for anything interesting. He found a boy at the Black Lake, all by himself. Large groups had intimidated Sherlock then, but he could handle solitary people. So he had walked up to the blonde boy and sat next to him, without a word. It was John who started talking, unsurprisingly. Sherlock had deduced him, unsure of how to handle the turn of events, and John had gaped at him in wonder – not in disgust. From that moment they had been friends, and people learnt to accept Sherlock a little more because of John. Two years later, John had asked him out and their first kiss happened.

Hungrily, John gathered a basket of toast and proceeded to coat five slices in a thick layer of jam. Sherlock shook his head and stole one, nibbling on it with a smirk as John shot him a glare.

Their breakfast was done within fifteen minutes and they went their separate ways, getting their own stuff from their dormitories. They agreed to meet up at the oaken front doors of the castle in ten minutes, kissed briefly, and darted in different directions.

Ten minutes later they were both dressed in thick coats, as the February weather was harsh. Luckily it had stopped snowing a week or so back, although John really loved how the little village looked when the roofs were coated with brilliant white snow.

John shook his head at Sherlock's long, dramatic coat, collar turned up and perfectly matching with a dark blue scarf. Sherlock said he didn't care for "fashion" or clothing in general, yet John had to admit that the sweaters, jeans and button-ups he wore were ridiculously expensive (not to mention great-looking).

'Hi,' he said softly, swinging his backpack on one shoulder, cupping Sherlock's jaw and kissing him. Sherlock had to lean down quite a bit, but he actually thought that John's height was adorable (he could also be very intimidating, though – when John was angry, he seemed twice his length and that scared Sherlock more than he wanted to admit).

'Let's go before Filch catches us,' Sherlock murmured. 'You remember last time he caught us snogging in the hallway.'

John chuckled at the memory. 'Yeah. Okay, let's go,' he agreed, lacing his fingers through Sherlock's and walking onto the porch.

The cold hit them hard, but the sun was already peeking over the treetops. It was the kind of weather Sherlock liked; no high temperatures (good weather to wear his coat), but a bright sun. John, on the other hand, liked the spring. When it was warm, not too hot, when you could walk out in just a t-shirt and sit under a tree at the lake and relax.

'So how was Transfiguration yesterday?' John asked his boyfriend.

Sherlock rolled his eyes. 'Tedious, as I expected. I could perform the spells perfectly. And then McGonagall made a joke about us. Again.'

John grinned. 'That woman enjoys it far too much. What was it about?'

'We also had to hand in an essay. Of course, I didn't do it. She then proceeded to ask me whether you had been distracting me. Naturally, I said yes.'

John blushed. 'Sherlock!'

'What? It's true,' Sherlock muttered, releasing John's hand and pulling him close to him by his waist. 'You did keep me up. Not that I minded, of course...'

John smiled. 'That's what I recall from last night,' he teased.

Slowly, they could see Hogsmeade come in sight before them. The crooked little houses, the busy streets, lots of people. John smiled and suggested they go for a drink first.

'As long as it isn't Madame Puddifoot's,' Sherlock mumbled. 'That place is an abomination.'

'You mean that tea room for couples with floating cherubs that throw confetti in your coffee?' John said, making a face. 'God, no. I was more thinking The Three Broomsticks.'

'As usual,' Sherlock grinned, but he agreed.

Moments later they entered the inn. There were a few students, but not too many as it was still early. Mostly there were older wizards and witches who were staying in Hogsmeade for particular reasons. They both ordered a Butterbeer and found a place to sit, a little bit off to the side as they liked their privacy when they were alone.

They were pressed shoulder to shoulder when they drank their Butterbeer, talking and laughing as they usually did. Soon they finished it, but they'd ended up even closer than before. It was very snug in The Three Broomsticks, and the firelight gave everything a cosy glow. It was hard not to kiss, right?

'Get a room!' Madame Rosmerta called good-humouredly from behind the bar.

John grinned against Sherlock's lips and looked up. Several people were grinning, but John felt no shame. Nearly everyone at Hogwarts and Hogsmeade knew that they were together, and plenty of jokes were made (frankly, because no one had ever thought Sherlock would get a boyfriend, much less John Watson). John didn't care because the majority accepted it, and the people who didn't stayed out of the matter because they knew they would be ignored.

'Have you got some, Madame Rosmerta?' he called back jovially. Sherlock chuckled, dipping in for another kiss.

'Just one,' she replied, cackling. 'Now hurry up and go upstairs before my customers will complain.'

John nodded. 'On our way,' he laughed, dragging Sherlock up, who was trying to get at his neck. 'Uh-uh, not there,' John warned him. 'Only kissing in public.'

Sherlock laughed. 'Come on, I know which room it is,' he said, offering John a hand. John took it and followed Sherlock up the stairs.

'How come you know which room it is?'

'Because I might have planned something for Valentine's Day,' Sherlock said indifferently, walking down the corridor and opening a particular room. 'Get in, come on.'

Curious, John followed. He didn't expect Sherlock to be the romantic boyfriend with candle light dinner, rose petals on the bed and a warm fire in the fireplace, but nothing could have prepared him for the sight that awaited him.

The room was a simple one; double bed, some furniture, and a separate bathroom. It was dark, but several lights danced across the room. John recognised it as magic. He got out his wand, touched a floating light nearby and examined it. He still wasn't sure what it was. It wasn't fire, they weren't fairies, nor Weasleys' Wildfire Whiz-bangs. 'What are they?' he asked in wonder.

'Something I came up with,' Sherlock grinned. 'I invented it.'

John gaped. 'How –'

Sherlock shrugged. 'I always liked the glow of our Patronuses. That and the colour of your eyes, the colour of your favourite jumper, how you make me feel inside when you smile, the bright red of your favourite jam, your voice... I thought about all those things when I designed this light. So it's basically you, what I feel for you, in a spell.'

'Wow,' John breathed, looking back at the lights and to Sherlock again. 'You made this for me?'

Sherlock nodded, got out his wand, performed and intricate movement and just the slightest muttering and produced another string of light. Then, he muttered, '_Expecto Patronum_', and out the tip of his wand shot a silvery otter, which danced across the room, chasing the lights. Sherlock grinned. 'Happy Valentine's Day?' he said a bit questioningly, and John recognised his "bit not good" voice.

'Happy Valentine's Day,' John said, getting out his own wand, thinking about that exact moment, and soon a silver hedgehog joined the otter. John moved towards Sherlock, grabbed him loosely, tenderly around the waist, tiptoed and pressed his mouth gently to Sherlock's.

Sherlock wound his arms tightly around John and kissed him so powerfully that John's feet were almost lifted off the ground. Their Patronuses dissolved as their wands clattered on the floor, forgotten.

'I love you,' Sherlock breathed.

'I love you too,' John said, running his fingers through Sherlock's hair.

'Good,' Sherlock grinned before picking John up and taking him to the bed. The lights danced around the room for as long as they were there and continued to be forever in their memory.


End file.
